Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Urethral Stone
by Jfjdjsncncndnensbx
Summary: A parody of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Will Dumbledore ever wear a normal robe? Will Harry ever get a hot potato? Will Hermione ever shut up? Find out more in this parody adaptation of the beloved first book.
1. A Nice NORMAL Night (or not)

**Note: I am not J.K. Rowling with a polyjuice potion,**  
**I do not own Harry Potter either, blah, blah, blehck**

**CHAPTER ONE: A Nice NORMAL Night (or not)**

It was a nice NORMAL evening on number four, Privet Drive, a lovely street in Little Whinging that was known for its wonderful gardens and habitual glue addictions. The whole day had been ideal, perfect, and NORMAL for the only woman on the street not named Karen, a very thin and bony woman, with a face that looked like a horse. This was probably due to the fact that she was kicked in the face by a horse as a child. Petunia Dursley rose from a peaceful three-hour slumber tormented by thoughts of fast food and babies. She was awoken, not by these horrible things, but because she realized that she had not done her usual eighth scrub-down of the kitchen before bed time, and also because her mammoth of a husband rolled over and started to suffocate and flatten her. After a quick muffled scream, she tossed her husband to the floor with surprising strength, not waking him up, and breaking a lamp in the process. Petunia threw a lurid pink bathrobe on, which had once been white before it was thrown in with the reds in the wash. She gave a shudder as she thought about that unpleasant day when the reds and whites mixed, before she stepped quietly downstairs.

As she walked down the staircase, she thought about how unpleasant it was when anything mixed, like water and alcohol, or the races. As she passed the front door, she thought she saw a small man with a purple top hat peeping through the glass, but Petunia decided that this sight must be from the glue she huffed before bed. She flicked on the lights to the kitchen, before grabbing her extremely filthy rag and a bottle of her favorite type of bleach to wipe off the counter tops. The counter tops were covered in a thick layer of chocolate, alcohol, and surprisingly, Fruit Loops. Petunia decided that her husband Vernon must have snuck downstairs earlier that night, although she couldn't, for the life of her, figure out how she hadn't heard him, giving the fact that he would usually get tired half-way down the steps, and fall to the floor below. Shaking these thoughts out of her head, she squirted the bleach into her mouth twice, before laying down and starting to make snow angels on the immaculate linoleum floors, not noticing that a single crumb was lying under the table.

As Petunia Dursley slowly induced a drug hallucination, a very old, old man appeared out of nowhere, bringing a few seconds of heavy male grunting with him, before the noise vanished. If any of the residents of Privet Drive had seen him, they would have indeed thought him a result of their drug hallucinations. The wizened old man was inexplicably dressed in a long, hot pink robe, which parted open to reveal a BDSM leather harness, and a personalized necklace that read "Albus". The old man coughed before reaching into the pocket of his robe, drawing out what looked like a cigarette lighter. He clicked the lighter, and with a pop, all the lights on Privet Drive went out, and sucked themselves into the lighter, tragically causing two cars to swerve and collide head-on.

As the old kook ignored this, he impatiently looked at his gold pocket watch, before spying a ginger cat on the side of the road. Moving near it, he whispered, "Minerva, what do you have to say about the Dursley family?" He suddenly felt a sharp blow on the back of his head. When the man turned around, he saw a fuming middle-aged woman with her hand held high. "I AM NOT A FUCKING GINGER DUMBLEDORE! DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING CALL ME A GINGER!" Minerva suddenly fanned her face with her hand, and started aggressively panting. After a few minutes, she apologized, "I'm extremely sorry Professor Dumbledore, it's just those mood swings caused by menopause. But Albus, I'm sure you know that my Animagus form is not a ginger cat, but a sexy kitty?"

Repulsed, Dumbledore quickly flashed back mentally to the sexy party he had just been too, celebrating the end of the Dark Lord, before Minerva once again interrupted him. "Dumbledore, is it tr..true that Lily and James, are...that they're...have been...you know... DIED?" Minerva screamed out when Albus gave a quick nod, not really paying attention to anything but his fantasies. Minerva sobbed, and wiped her eyes, "T..they were t...two of the hottest students I've ever taught. I'll miss them so much!" Albus nodded, and snapped back into reality for a few minutes. "Now, Minerva, their son survived this ordeal. And it's also true, thanks for asking, that Voldemort is now...gone. The boy was a target of his, and most amazingly, he survived the killing curse, and it rebounded on the little boy," said Dumbledore. Minerva blew her nose on a hankie before stuffing it up her robes somewhere that Dumbledore chose to ignore. "So, Minerva, are the Dursleys good people? They're the only people in his family left except for Petunia's cousin who really wants children, but can't have any," said Dumbledore lazily.

Minerva sighed, "They are the most awful type of Muggles to ever exist. The man, I think his name is Fern, or some other shitty flower name, works for a boring company that makes drills for other boring drill making companies. He weighs at least five hundred pounds, and he can't walk more than a few feet without having a cardiac episode. He's talked to himself at least fifty times today alone, muttering about weird people and magic. His wife's name is another horrible flower name, Petunia, but you already know that of course Dumbledore. She's probably twenty years younger than him or so, but is still extremely unattractive, unlike me. She spends her entire day cleaning and huffing Elmer's glue while watching reruns of reboot Mongolian versions of Gone With the Wind and Black Beauty. When she's not going off into frolicking horse land, she's stuffing food into the mouth of a small beachball, which to my horror turned out to be their "small" son. The beachba...I mean son is just the worst. He kicks his mother every second he's not getting sweets stuffed into his mouth, and he has two freaking bedrooms. He's a toddler, for crying out loud!" Minerva started aggressively panting again. "BESIDES THE POTTERS WERE TOO ATTRACTIVE FOR THEIR SON TO LIVE WITH HORSE LADY, A WALKING HEART ATTACK, AND A BEACHBALL!" Albus nodded slowly, pretending to deeply take everything in that she had to say, before stating, "Minerva, I understand. But fame and success can make little children wonky, plus James still owed me $5, so this is the kind of life Harry gets. Now Hagrid is bringing the boy over from the ruins of the Potter house. It is of the most vital importance that you do not under any circumstance, try to aggravate him. This includes not using words with more than two syllables in them. We don't want another pudding war incident."

Dumbledore shook heavily, not from the crisp apple of a night, but because of the pudding incident last year. Minerva slowly nodded, before gaping up as a large motorcycle dropped out of the night sky, loudly landing on the pavement two feet away from Minerva. Unfortunately, Dumbledore was two feet away from Minerva, and stretched out a broken hand for help. Choosing to ignore this, Minerva noticed the ten-foot tall, giant of a man with scraggly black hair and meth head teeth. He was tenderly holding a small bundle. "Hagrid, why such a slow trip here?", Minerva said as she spoke slowly. The giant of a man, grinned. "Wel, Minnie (Minerva shuttered as thoughts of being called that name while being bullied entered her mind), I nev'r us'd one of th'se t'ings bef're. I wan'd to keep und'r de lim'ts, so I w'nt 'bout one mile an 'our. This'll b' de babe." Hagrid passed the small bundle to Minerva's outstretched arms, who took a quick look, and promptly threw the contents of the bundle into the fiery wreckage of the motorcycle. "HAGRID THIS IS A FUCKING STONE! ARE YOU THAT FUCKING RETARDED?" She realized her mistake a second after saying it. She had said the r-word. The r-word had more than two syllables in it. Hagrid angrily swiped left with his garbage lids, er..hands Being swiped left was sadly familiar to poor Minerva McGonagall, however, she was standing to the right of Hagrid. Hagrid gave a guttural roar, still not waking up the residents of Privet Drive, and started running towards the freeway.

Minerva brushed off her robes, before quickly disappearing and reappearing, this time with a small baby with curly, black hair, and a large scar shaped like a micropenis on his head. Minerva cringed and quickly tried to make the scar disappear, vanishing half of it, so that it now looked more like a lightning bolt. "Close enough!", Minerva said cheerily to no one in particular. She vanished the burning motorbike and helped Dumbledore, whose outer robes had burnt off, to his knees, a position he was familiar with. Gulping for breath for a few minutes, he passed a letter to Minerva. "A DAMN LETTER IS GOING TO EXPLAIN THIS TO THOSE AWFUL PEOPLE?!" Minerva screamed out loud. Angrily, she kicked Dumbledore in the shin, before composing herself, and she gently strolled over to the front door of number four, Privet Drive, and set down the small, sleeping infant, and the letter. Minerva took a worried glance at the house, before roughly grabbing Dumbledore's arm and disappearing

Petunia awoke at eleven o'clock in the morning feeling very hungover. Vague memories of her dancing with a unicorn entered her mind as she stood up from the kitchen floor. She looked around and noticed that she was still the only one up. Petunia decided that she probably had to make some milk for her little son, Dudley. As she didn't believe that breastfeeding or formula were real, she usually gave him several gallons of dairy milk a day, which would make his bones grow strong and big, as well as his stomach. Petunia entered her carpeted foyer, and kicked the front door open. Petunia was confused when she heard a wailing sound from the other side. Wondering if the milk bottles suddenly became alive, she looked down and saw a small, baby boy perfectly clutching a very elaborate looking letter with a fine waxy seal, but no milk. Begrudgingly, she picked up the small baby, and realized it was her nephew. Petunia suddenly got furious and dropped the infant on the floor like a warm, hot potato, which she was suddenly craving. Lily had promised her that she wouldn't abandon that little Harvey, Henry, Hairy on the doorstep again. Petunia grumbled as she broke the seal to the letter. As she broke the seal, the residents of Privet Drive slowly awoke from their peaceful and quiet dreaming, not one dreaming for a second that the lives of the family on number four would be changed forever.


	2. Dickykins Special Day

**Note: I am not, will not, can not be J.K. Rowling,**  
**because I am not a billionaire, so of course I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Chapter Two: Dickykins Special Day**

Ten horrible years passed since the day little Harry Potter was dumped on the doorstep of his awful aunt and uncle, like a moldy rag or a hot potato, which Harry was suddenly craving. Since there wasn't room in the large house for Dudley's two bedrooms AND a bedroom for Harry, he slept under the stairs in a small, but cozy cupboard full of tarantulas and black widows, which kept him nice and small for the Dursleys to beat him around. Harry wondered why he woke up with a strange craving for a hot potato for a second before a terrible crash was heard. Harry knew instantly that this was his Uncle Vernon, who had once again fallen down the stairs like he did every single morning. Harry timidly pushed open the cupboard only to see a livid Aunt Petunia staring at him, with bulging eyes, her bony horse face dripping with sweat, almost as though she had stood there all night, with probably had happened. Aunt Petunia was now three years off her glue dependency, and occasionally she did weird things like staring at people while they slept, or squatting in a neighbors rosebushes four blocks away when she needed to tinkle. She took a large gulp, before randomly throwing out words, "FREAK KITCHEN GO BIRTHDAY BACON SIZZLE TURTLE SNAPE!" Harry didn't know what a Snape was, but he hurried into the kitchen and cooked a family size package of bacon, an appetizer for his cousin Dudley's big birthday celebration. Dudley was roughly the size of a large killer whale, and required a lot of food just to maintain consciousness. Petunia's scribbly writing written all over her immaculate countertops. There would be eight courses for this breakfast, and Harry was to cook all of it in five minutes.

As he hurriedly made biscuits and pancakes, hundreds of eggs and ham, crispy bacon and non-crispy bacon, and a five layer chocolate cake, Harry noticed a very red-faced Vernon crawl into the kitchen, no doubt attracted by the scent of frying meat and rising dough. "Good morning lad, you're doing a terrific job on that food! Later we can go for a drive! How does that sound, son" Vernon's health problems had recently sky-rocketed, and this included multiple personality disorder. Suddenly, Vernon let out a scream and knocked the stuffing out of the boy. Harry knew that Uncle Vernon's personality would cycle between a docile, castrated suburban soccer dad and a violent prisoner in for insider trading and welfare fraud at least twenty times before lunch. Harry hurriedly stuffed a sizzling potato into his mouth to satisfy his craving for hot potatoes, before realizing it was a hashbrown and spitting it out.

Petunia Dursley entered the kitchen of heavenly aromas through the archway in the living room. Harry could not resist the urge to suddenly laugh at her. Aunt Petunia was wearing a small, red cocktail dress, a size fourteen pair of loafers, and a loose pioneer bonnet. Petunia took a deep breath, before screaming, "DICKYKINS SPECIAL DAY SET TABLE NOW MAGIC FREAK!" Harry wasn't exactly sure what to do, since the presents were stacked on top of the table. Stepping over a resting Uncle Vernon, he carefully placed each gift onto the coffee table in the living room. After a few minutes of shuttling back and forth, the kitchen table was cleared. Harry set dishes upon dishes on the large, round table. First course was a large platter of pills for Uncle Vernon, and a smaller, more classy saucer of brightly colored pills for Aunt Petunia. Cups of tea and coffee the size of a Big Gulp were set on the table by little Harry, afterwards, he placed large bowls of eggs, bacon, pancakes, biscuits, and the works on Dudley's green placemat. A single piece of kale was put in front of Aunt Petunia, who slowly started licked on it, hoping to get as few calories as possible. Uncle Vernon was still comatose on the floor, so Harry moved the platter of pills beside his uncle's flabby face, hoping that eventually Uncle Vernon would eat it, so that Harry wouldn't have to force feed him pills like last week.

The floor above the kitchen started to groan and moan, and suddenly a loud burst was heard as the ceiling above Harry shattered. A very, very, very obese boy roughly the size of a killer whale dropped from the ceiling and hit the large breakfast table with a thump. Petunia eyes were bulging out again, her last pill for prostate cancer prevention in her hand. The combined weight of the food on the table and the mammoth of the boy caused the table to snap in half. "DICKYKINS NOOOOOOOOO!", screamed Petunia calmly. She tried to pull her son from the dusty wreckage, but physically could not. It took the combined efforts of a shell-shocked Harry and a raving, lunatic aunt named Petunia to turn Dudley to his side. Suddenly, Dudley popped up like nothing had happened. "MUMMY WHERE ARE MY PRESENTS?", he screamed as he waddled and tripped over Uncle Vernon's feebly stirring body.

Eventually, Dudley got through his 153 gifts, which was eight less than last years present haul, without breaking most of them, although a brand-new computer and a revolting, yellow sweater were both accidentally eaten by a now hungry Dudley. The albino mammoth was now eating around the broken dining table, gnawing at bits of bacon and asbestos. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the doorbell rang, and Petunia screamed out loud, "THEY'RE HERE, THEY'RE HERE, THEY'RE HERE!" Petunia quickly ripped off her bonnet and loafers, and threw them in a hall closet, and grabbed a pair of red fourteen inch high heels from the same closet. Quickly slipping them on, she drew out her makeup kit and hastily applied bright pink lipstick to her eyes, and mascara to her lips. Her head almost hitting the ceiling with her high heels, she smoothed her dress and gracefully hit the door. Rubbing her head, she turned the door. Her happy smile quickly turned to a frown when she saw Mrs. Polkiss holding her son Piers, a scrawny bully of a boy, by the ear. Petunia quickly looked out the door, and turned her head from left to right with her long neck. "B...bbutttt where's Ringo Starr?", whimpered Petunia. Mrs. Polkiss looked confused, but pushed her boy inside anyways before running out onto the street to get away, only to get run over by a smart car that was passing by at five miles per hour.

After the ambulance came and picked up Mrs. Polkiss, who had slowly been crushed by the smart car, Petunia hustled the three children into the family station wagon for a pleasant trip to the zoo. She had angrily wiped her makeup all over her face, the effect was quite pleasing compared to her normal face. With a lot of heaving, the three boys and Petunia managed to load a still unconscious Uncle Vernon on top of the station wagon. They had paid a lot of money for this zoo trip, so Petunia was not going to let Vernon miss it, even if he was breathing rather shallowly. She shoved a handful of pills in his mouth, and duct taped him rather crudely to the car.

Petunia did not know how to drive due to being a respectable, NORMAL, suburban woman, and Vernon was unconscious and didn't fit in the driver's seat anyway, so of course little ten-year old Harry did it. Harry had never been to a zoo, a quick two hundred mile trip away, because Petunia and Vernon were extremely thrifty due to spending most of their money on Dudley's food and presents and their pills and medication. It was also probably because they didn't particularly like Harry or care about him. Dudley barely fit in the backseat, and Piers was squeezed up against a window. The ceiling of the old station wagon was sagging down rapidly, and suddenly Vernon fell down into the backseat, crushing Dudley and Piers. Harry turned around from the steering wheel and saw that only Vernon's lower half was taking up the backseat, Vernon's head and upper body were still duct taped to the part of the ceiling that had not collapsed.

Eventually, after five hours of driving, the odd jalopy of the Dursleys parked in four of the zoos handicapped parking spaces. Petunia wrenched the backseat door open, and pulled Piers out, who was gasping for breath. Petunia shoved him aside as she desperately pulled at Dudley, who was whimpering in pain as his father quite literally farted in his face. After about an hour of intense pain and struggle, and with help from Harry, Dudley finally managed to crawl out from underneath his father. By this time it was already almost nightfall, and the zoo would only be open for another hour. Petunia let Vernon stay in the car to think about what he'd done, and also to cover the gaping hole that was the roof from intruders.

At the ice cream truck near the entrance, Dudley ordered a bathtub full of ice cream, and Petunia munched on some grass like her spirit animal, the horse. Piers ordered a cone, and the smiling lady gave Harry a small lemon ice pop for free. "Trust me kid, you don't want to know why it's yellow", the lady said. Harry quickly threw away the lemon pop before catching up with the rest of the gang. Piers had already finished his cone, and Dudley was halfway through eating the bathtub. The group of four walked up the stairs and paid their ticket fares. They quickly ran to the zoo cafe, where the same lady from the ice cream truck was now working. Petunia ordered a dozen hamburgers and a Diet Coke for Dudley, and a single french fry for her. Piers ate a burger from Dudley's platter, but Harry got nothing. To his utter surprise, Harry was given a Knickerbocker Glory from Dudley because it didn't have a gallon of ice cream on top. Harry quickly savored his rare treat, before they ran away from the table when the lady came with the check.

Harry thought that the zoo was a very interesting place. He saw a gorilla that looked like Dudley, a monkey that looked like Dudley, and a trash can that looked like Dudley. The group was running through each exhibit, quickly taking in the animals that looked similar to Dudley. Harry ran ahead and found himself in an airy, almost tropical exhibit that was labeled as being for reptiles. Harry's green eyes widened in fear as he glanced at a long, venomous looking boa constrictor lazily lying limp in his cage. Involuntarily, one of Harry's eyes twitched, and to his utter surprise, the snake winked back, even though it had no eyelids. "Must be really lonely out here", Harry muttered at the snake. Except for that's not what Petunia heard as she walked by. She heard her nephew, and became convinced he had been possessed by the devil...again. Harry, however, paid no attention to her, and was instead in a deep conversation with the snake about taxes and escaping prison cells. Suddenly, Petunia started to shake him. "IN THE NAME OF THE HOLY FATHER, LET THIS DEMON EXPEL FROM MY NEPHEW'S TINY BODY". When this didn't work, Petunia shook him harder and harder. Petunia screamed, "DICKYKINS, TACKLE THE DEMON OUT OF YOUR COUSINS BODY!" Dudley waddly ran towards Harry, and made the motion to tackle, however, he was charging a reflection of Harry that he saw in the glass. Dudley screamed as his mammoth of a body collided with the glass barrier, and he landed right by the snake, which slithered away. "Thanks, amigo..." it hissed at Harry.

Petunia was having a minor meltdown, and grabbed Harry and ran like a football (not the American kind you idiots) star towards the front door to the station wagon. She furiously shoved Harry into the passenger seat, and drove for the first time in her life. She hit her foot on the gas pedal, and drove towards the station wagon towards the front steps of the zoo. Not minding Vernon who was still tied to the roof, she ran the car through the enormous glass doors, as the smiling lady from earlier was staring with a look of horror at her ruined cafe stand. Going about a hundred through the mostly empty zoo was an easy task for Petunia, who stopped so suddenly that one of Vernon's legs swung into Harry's head, causing it to hit the dashboard. She hurriedly helped a conscious Dudley into the backseat of the station wagon, while leaving poor Piers to hold onto the door handle as she turned around into a glass exhibit, before backing up and zooming through the front door.

Petunia was not extraordinarily great at driving. She was travelling around one hundred and twenty-five on the wrong side of the freeway on the way back to number four, Privet Drive. During the drive, Piers managed to claw himself through an open window into the relative safety of the backseat, and Harry managed to take a nap for three minutes. He woke up when Dudley slapped him awake. "MOM, I WANNA WATCH THE TELLY NOW!". Aunt Petunia did not respond, and instead shoved a basket of potato chips near Harry's feet into the backseat. Dudley calmed down for a while, and all was well.

When the family returned to number four, Privet Drive, Aunt Petunia untaped Uncle Vernon from the roof of the car. Vernon managed to figure out a way out of the car, which involved a sort of shimmy dance from the new sunroof, and out the car door. He got to his feet, gulping, before he ran at Harry, grabbing his neck and screaming. Vernon kicked through the front door and shoved Harry into the cupboard door. "NO MEALS, NO WATER, NO BATHROOM, OUT OF SIGHT NOW!". Harry figured this might have been because of that one very low bridge crossing in Manchester on the way to the zoo, based on how scraped Uncle Vernon's belly was. Harry's eyes stared out of the bleak white cupboard trying to figure out what to do for the next month.


End file.
